


V Isles

by silver_stardust



Series: V Isles [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF, F/F, F/M, Game of Thrones-esque, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:29:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5085514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_stardust/pseuds/silver_stardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally inspired by the style and story of A Song of Ice and Fire, this takes place in a time similar to the one previously mentioned. In the Five Isles, numerous powerful families are in turmoil after the unexpected death of a beloved. Romance, companionship, murder, and mysteries are to be found in each character's tale. The plot travels from Isle to Isle and character to character as often as George R.R. Martin's works, but each to their own unique perspectives.</p><p>*All of the characters and places present are original and only inspired by the ASoIaF series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	V Isles

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Since I am just testing out the style here, this is only the first half of chapter one. I figured it would work as a good introduction to one of the main families and the writing present, but without alluding much to the plot. If you enjoy reading this and truly want to watch the plot develop, please let me know so I can update as frequently as possible. Thank you!

The air was silent and calm, though perhaps muggy, when a blast of trumpets resonated around the open courtyard. “The King,” shouted a squire, after the trumpets were quieted. “Make way for King Anaeri, Ruler of the Isles, Monarch to the Sea!”

The procession approached no more dignified than a regular caravan. The leader, assumedly the King, travelled upfront, waving to the minimal crowd gathering on the grounds.  _He does not look the part_ , thought Renyan silently to himself. Though he supposed that was quite the hypocrisy; people called  _him_  a prince, yet he wore clothes like a merchant. The King strode in on an ordinary horse, a spotted stallion much in need of rest, with only a few scattered guards beside him. Behind him was a simple carriage- containing the Lady Oliara, sister to the King, and her family, he assumed- and further back were another handful of guards. The King himself was dressed as simply as the carriage, but Renyan could tell he was of importance from the set of his chin and his shoulders. That, and the way the court’s women flocked to his sides.

“Are you going to stand at windows and gape all day, or are you going to put on your cloak and hurry to the Hall?” came a deep voice from behind him. He sighed and turned to face his elder brother. Kaluen, in contrast, appearingly upheld his title: he was dressed in his best emerald attire, complete with a shimmering cloak of ivory. Under a matching circlet, he had pinned down his wild, lustrous, dark curls. Only sixteen, he already had the formation of a bushy beard at the base of his chin, and it aged him well. His dark eyes often sparkled when he spoke, but they did no such thing now. He frowned at the younger, expectant and irritated.

“Sorry, Kal,” Renyan muttered. “Got distracted.”

“By what? The nonexistent fanfare? This is a simply arranged visit, brother, you were not wise to expect else. Now, do hurry, we mustn’t keep Father waiting.” With that, he strode out of the room, the sound of his metal-tipped boots making Renyan smile. His brother was not a knight by any stretch of the imagination, but he did so like to pretend. He doubted his brother could even lift a sword. The thought nearly made him laugh aloud. Suddenly, he realized the noise outside had quelled. _Time to go._  Sighing again, Renyan grabbed his ivory cloak and walked to the Hall- or at least, he attempted to, but managed to bump into someone idling outside his chamber door.

“Watch it!” came a shrill, irritated voice. Renyan looked down towards his waist, where the voice sounded from. Big grey eyes glared up at him accusingly. He stifled a laugh at the ridiculous expression.

“Sorry, Erona,” he said to his younger sister. Erona sniffed, unsatisfied, and brushed her black bangs out of her face.

“You pushed me into the wall,” she said, pouting. He once again resisted his urge to laugh. She was so small, even for her young age, that anything she did could not be taken seriously. Eventually, perhaps, she would make a terrifying lady, but the tiny, rambunctious child she was now barely scared the garden sparrows.

“My apologies. May we go before Father sends Neia to get us?” Erona bobbed her head, suddenly miffed. She, like many, despised the old handmaiden, with her snarled teeth and angry rasp of a voice. Erona grabbed her brother’s hand and led him on, ignoring his soft chuckling.

The Hall had been adorned in the symbols of their family- although adorned is perhaps an understatement. Banners of silver sparrows, drapes in rich emeralds, and ivory statues of Dukes and Dames past were overwhelmingly present. Renyan feared he could not walk two steps without being reminded of who he was and where he descended from. “I think Mother was not consulted about this,” whispered Erona, and Renyan had to agree. Their mother, a lover of simplicities and organizations, would never stand for such an extravagant display. Understandably, was she unconsulted; being mere weeks from birthing had her confined to her bedchambers.

Their father, however, was amidst the crowd, and much easier to single out. He practically shone, with all of his brightly polished silver armor accompanied by a velvet ivory cape. He looked much like Kal, thought Renyan, as the other went to stand next to him. Both had beautiful dark curls and dark eyes, though Kal’s never seemed as menacing as the Duke of the West. They were close in height, as well, but Kal stood straight, whereas their father preferred to look down upon them all.

The king was chatting idly with the Duke and Kaluen, but his lovely sister had already sat to drink. She was smiling and laughing at something the ginger-haired knight- her husband?- to her left had said. The Lady Oliara’s reputation of beauty was true, Renyan decided, upon looking at her face. It was both soft and sharp in the same places as the king's, but her lips plumper, her eyes rounder, and her long tresses seemed to shine even more than his father's armor. Her smile was much brighter as well, with teeth so perfect it was nearly impossible. But she did not pale in comparison to her young daughters.

The Eastern princesses were admired throughout the kingdom- perhaps more than the true princesses, Alaya, Ceara, and Idris. The elder, Meiras, had received the prettiest parts of her parents: she had her father's sea-glass eyes, his reddish locks, and her mother's charming smile and soft lips. It was to be said that she was the prettiest girl in the kingdom, and Renyan found himself agreeing with the assumption. Her younger sister, Caia, had much brighter hair and the startling trademark golden eyes of the Norse (all ingredients for ungodly beauty), but her face not as pretty as either parent. But she was still young, only slightly older than Erona, so she had time to blossom into a prize princess. There were whispers about the girls' talents, whispers about their beauty, and whispers especially about Caia’s fierce denial of her royal upbringing and her love for escaping the castle. He had yet to truly meet the princesses, but soon, he assumed, he could confirm these whispers for himself.

Renyan could not help but admire Meiras from where he stood. She sincerely was one of the most striking girls he had ever seen. She was lithe and curvy under her violet gown, that much he could tell. Her face was alight with curiosity, and it made her all the more beautiful. He watched the way the candlelight reflected in her teal eyes, how it made them shine like the tides.  Unfortunately, she would be spoken for, come the morrow. “A simply arranged visit” Kal had stated, but simple it was not. A betrothal was to be made, between Kaluen and Meiras, and the rumors made the affair quite the to-do. After all, they made an absolutely stunning pair, with the most handsome of the Reaver children accompanied by the prettiest princess in the country. “Their daughters will stop men’s hearts,” Renyan had heard a maid giggle. “And their sons will convince women to bear their children- with just one glance.”

He envied his brother. It seemed unfair to him that he receive everything Renyan desired: a pretty wife, a pretty face, a pretty piece of all the isles...yet Renyan never dared openly state his envious thoughts. Only Erona guessed that he was unsatisfied here, but that was because she felt the same. She had confessed to him her fear of ugliness: “If I am not pretty eventually, Ren, Father won’t marry me well and he’ll just ship me off to some poor farmer!” Renyan had consoled her “silly fear”, but deep down, he knew her to be right. What good is a young princess in an Isle led by princes? She wasn’t even in line for the Isle of the West- unless their newest sibling was to be a girl. Neither of them were much use here, and both of them knew it.

“Renyan!” came the sudden command of his Lord Father’s voice. “There you are, at last. Your brother tells me you had a late start?”

 _Damn him for it_ , he thought, but he smiled to his father and to his king beside him. “Ah yes, sorry, m’lord,” Renyan said, bowing to the king. “Bit of a distraction, all those trumpets.”

The king laughed, the sound too loud for such a small hall. His golden eyes twinkled underneath his cloud of brown curls. “Ay, Claudess,” he chuckled gaily. “This one, this one has a sense of humor about him. How old are you, boy?”

“Fourteen, my lord.”

“Your Grace,” Kal corrected, softly. Renyan had forgotten he was there, but he was ever thankful for the assistance.

“Er, Your Grace.”

The king waved his hand in dismissal. “Oh, quit that,” he stated. “I have no need for titles. You know, boy, you look much like your mother. But stronger, more like a knight than a scholar. Speaking of Elalie?”

“My wife is far with child,” said the Duke. “She apologizes for her absence in advance.”

“Ah,” said King Anaeri. He laughed again. “Not to worry, Claudess, Mesarrine was the same while with Idris. Send her my love, anyhow. And do thank her for this feast, yes?”

Renyan heard Kal shuffle his metal boots nervously, and he looked to see his father’s jaw tightening. It was well rumoured that the king preferred Lady Elalie over her stern husband, but why his preference was such never became clear. Most assumed an affair had taken place. Some reasoned that it was simply because she had a friendlier aura to her. Though their father had put this together, the king found it in his mind to still thank their absent mother. The Duke, of course, also knew of this favoritism, but he could not openly disrespect the king. So he nodded. “Of course. Kaluen, would you show His Grace to his seat?” The elder nodded, and gestured with his hand. The king chuckled again.

“Make sure you see to it that my sister gets her hands off that drink, Claud, as her Ser husband drinks as much as she. It is a relief her girls are too young for ale.” And with that, the king strode away.

The Duke’s glare set on Renyan. “Attend to your sister,” he snapped, and left without so much as another word. Renyan ignored his hostility. He hated being the second son.


End file.
